Endangered
by Magister Equitum
Summary: 320 living. 34 mph winds. 250 Mulberry Moth Cocoons. One dead graduate student. A new case in the Santa Susana Mountains isn't what it seems... Chapter Six of Six posted.
1. Just Another Manic Monday

**Disclaimer: **Damn. I knew that legal document was important. Perhaps I shouldn't have used it as a gum wrapper. Oh well. Numb3rs and its characters belong to the wonderful writers at CBS.

**Author's Note: **Some spoilers for later episodes of Season Three. None that are too major or blatantly out there. Takes place before the whole Janus List escapade; thought it best to keep that out of this equation.

_Special thanks to DB who has so graciously given her time to be my beta. _

* * *

_He was falling fast and hard down the leeward side of the mountain._

_Correction, he amended his brain, he was __rolling__ down the leeward side of the mountain; not falling. Falling would detail the absence of the very hard ground beneath him._

_Rolling with no sign of stopping despite the scrapes on both hands that lent evidence to the fight that he had put up and was still trying to put up. There was no way he was going to simply allow himself to roll without even making an attempt to stop. _

_Yeah, Eppes, he thought to himself, way to go. Try to take on the mountain itself and see what the Fates decided to throw back at you to teach you a little lesson in humility. Nice one._

_Traveling northward from his left ankle, fire lanced up his leg as his body slammed into a tree, and with that, all thoughts of self-chiding were kicked to the back of his mind. His body bounced off but his leg had other ideas, the force spinning him around so that he was upside down; his head now faced the slope and the blue sky and mountain top greeted him from way up above._

_His body jerked painfully, the force from the protruding root that had leapt out and ensnared his ankle checking his downward movement. Don swore he heard both his ankle pop as well as his adjoining hip. If he hadn't heard it, then the pain sure felt like those two joints had._

_At least he wasn't rolling anymore. That much he could be grateful for. _

_He lay there panting and sucking in great gasps of pure crisp mountain air. Don's fingers sank into the rough dirt intermingled with loose rocks of their own violation, some subconscious part of his being latching onto the idea that if his fingers embedded themselves into the mountain side, then he wouldn't slide anymore. _

_It seemed to be working as he hadn't shifted again._

_The roaring in his ears died down, lessening in its intensity, and Don strained to hear Colby or any other signs of life. Only the roaring of the winds drifted back down to his audio processors, and he realized that he was alone, Colby having followed his order to give chase instead of coming after him. At least his agent had listened to his order this time, as opposed to the whole Dwayne Carter incident; it was surprising that Colby had indeed obeyed him as Don had issued it at the very beginning of this whole rolling experience._

_Don twisted his face to the side. The ground was warm against his cheek from the afternoon rays of the sun. He coughed, sputtering as some of the dirt that wasn't compacted into the ground was inhaled. Still breathing heavily, he cast around, taking in the area around him._

_It took an extra moment for him to adjust to the heavy stream of sunlight, but after a few seconds Don was able to see the scenery and take stock of where he had ended up. This part of the mountain had already been cleared away with only a few trees remaining. They were good old California Oak, just like the one his ankle was currently hung up on. A quick raise of his head –with only a marginal amount of pain included- brought the ledge, where the strong gust of Santa Ana wind had pushed him off, into his sight. He could still make out the blue tarp from the work tent as it flapped in the wind._

_For a second he counted himself lucky that the tent had not followed him, but instantly realized a moment later that, unlike him, the tent was bolted into the ground to prevent this sort of thing from happening._

_He also had to count himself lucky for the two simple facts that he had rolled instead of fallen, and that the ledge was closer to the base of the mountain than the actual summit. A true fall or a tumble from a higher position would have certainly ended in far more serious injuries than a sprained, if not broken, ankle and several bruises with a possible broken rib or two. _

_A fall from a higher ledge would have ended in his body splattering on the ground below. That would have been a pleasant sight for Colby to come back to. He could see the headlines of the papers now: 'Careless FBI Agent Falls Prey to Santa Ana Winds After Mountain Chase'._

_That would just be lovely._

_Guesstimating, because he wasn't Charlie and didn't possess his brother's genius mind, Don figured that his rolling escapade had only landed him somewhere around twenty yards below the slightly jutting ledge. Give or take another twenty._

_Alright. Surroundings established._

_Next step was to get untangled._

_The slight sudden movement as he tried to raise himself to reach his leg immediately saw him back where he had started: lying upside down and panting in exertion._

_Don blinked several times, gazing up at the lone Condor that seemed to be mocking him as it soared overhead. Stupid bird, he thought as its harsh cry called from far above. _

_This was ridiculous. Well, the whole situation was ridiculous, but him right here was even more so. He was not an invalid, nor was he some weakling. He was an athlete and a well fit federal agent who just so happened to be in peak physical condition. _

_What were a few cracked ribs, bruises, and a possible severely sprained ankle? Certainly nothing to him._

_Time to get up, Eppes._

_Now._

_No excuses, you wimp. So what if you're thirty seven? That's no excuse._

_Growling and cursing into the howling wind, Don braced both palms and pushed upward in one swift motion, gnashing at his back teeth against the sting of the cuts on his hands._

_Suck it up, Eppes._

_Using the momentum from his quick push off, and fighting through the pain, his stomach muscles clenched as Don used them to hold his position long enough for him to take a grab at what had kept him from rolling farther down the mountain. His arms stretched until his shoulders ached but his fingers closed around the offending root._

_Taking a deep breath and counting to five, Don jerked his ankle out from underneath the root. He immediately began to slide and his hands shot out again, fingers sinking once more into the ground in search of a holding. The slide was definitely slower than his roll had been and it didn't take him but a few feet to come to a complete stop. _

_He waited for a few minutes and then began to shuffle backwards, scooting his body to the nearest thing that he could prop himself up against. The nearest thing happened to be a good sized boulder. He grimaced when he was no longer moving, finally able to take stock of everything that was wrong with him. _

_Air wheezed in and out of him, the harsh pressure from every breath telling him that he did indeed have a cracked rib or two. It took three minutes and several more curses later but Don had managed to ease his shoe off from his foot and roll down the sock just far enough to where he could get a good look at his ankle. It was already swollen and painful to touch, the myriad of bruising colors beginning to replace the warm tan of his skin. He didn't think it was broken as he could still move it. Probably just severely sprained. That was another lucky thing._

_Casting around at his side, Don unclipped his cell phone, grimacing at the nicks and scratches that dotted the black surface of the company phone. That would be yet another piece of paperwork for him to fill out later. _

_The chipper woman working the F.B.I. switchboard cheerfully gave into his request for her to transfer him to Megan's desk. It somehow seemed unfair that the operator could be so happy back at the office, while the actual agent was baking under the hot sun with his sweat gluing both him and the black cotton of his shirt to the boulder behind him. _

_His partner answered on the third ring and after a brief explanation of where he was, Megan ended the call, promising to relay his position to the agents back down at the base of the trail. She only laughed a few times._

_He would have to wait now. There was nothing else Don could do. If he tried to move himself and walk it off, he would never hear the end of it from the site medics, his team, Charlie, or his father. _

_Charlie and his father. That thought brought up something else entirely. Charlie would no doubt find the whole situation humorous after the genius assured himself that his brother was okay and got over his initial reaction of alarm. The ribbing and good natured jibes from his teammates would follow him for days. Hell, if it didn't hurt to breathe so deep, Don would be laughing at himself. The whole thing was funny, an accident typical of a new agent not an experienced one. It all came back to the damn annual Santa Ana winds. _

_But Alan? His father was going to be another situation altogether. His father had packed up and headed out for a conference three days ago, but he was due back tomorrow night. And there was no way his ankle or ribs were going to be healed by then. He was never going to hear the end of it from his father. He could take Charlie's teases and his father's chiding. But together? _

_The roll had cracked the face of his watch, and he looked down once more at his cell phone. Five minutes had passed since his conversation with Megan. That meant he still had another ten or fifteen to go before the agents made their way to him from the trail. _

_Don sighed, wincing as he forgot about his chest. He might as well use the time to come up with his explanation for his father once he got back. _

_He supposed that he could blame the winds. Or he could lay fault on the lady that had taken forever at the coffee vendor. _

_Yes, that was it. If the lady hadn't taken so long berating the poor guy for not getting her morning fix perfect, then Don wouldn't have arrived at the bullpen ten minutes later than he had scheduled. Then his team would have already been out the door and working on something else, instead of having the gross misfortune to be standing around when the unlucky call came through for this case. Sometimes it paid to skip the nicer coffee and just choke down the stuff from the office lounge._

_While that story made sense to his mind as he was in a rather blaming mood given his circumstances at the moment, Don finally agreed with that nagging part of his brain that kept saying they shouldn't have gone up there after hearing the report that the winds were subject to change today. _

_Somehow he didn't think his father was going to accept the whole 'lady, coffee, late, wrong place, wrong time' story. _

_Don sighed again, lifting a hand to rub the back of his neck and then moving it to slide through his hair. Dirt and other things fell from the movement, telling him that several rinses would be necessary to get all of the dust and dirt out. _

_Sometimes, he just hated Mondays. _

_

* * *

_

_Three Days Ago_

Don closed the door to his Suburban, the distinct slamming sound eliciting looks from the dozen or so people standing next to the trail sign. Peering through the darkness of his shades, he noted that the majority of them were lab technicians, while the two with dark green jackets he guessed to be rangers familiar with this part of the Santa Susana Mountains. The black lettering over their breast pockets read 'Santa Clarita Woodlands Park', confirming their identities.

"Hey, Don." Colby joined him, moving to fall in step as he drawled out a warm greeting that matched the clear sunny sky overhead. "Nice morning for a hike, isn't it?"

"You're telling me."

It was a nice day. Away from the heavy pollution of the city, one could breathe in the fresh mountain air. A long hike in either one of the equally beautiful Santa Susana or San Gabriel Mountains offered a respite from the fast paced life of Los Angeles, even if it was for only a short while. Too bad Don never found much time to get out here. Life as a field agent consumed most of his schedule and any free time found him crashed out in a deep sleep or over at Charlie's house.

They were moving up the trail now, climbing and bending down at the difficulty of the incline, Don and Colby following somewhat behind the surefooted ranger. He didn't seem to have any problem navigating the twists, ledges, rocks, or roots that seemed to pop up out of nowhere. Mid-day sunlight filtered in between the leaves of the oak trees around them. Squirrels chattered from over their heads and birds added their voices as well.

Looking to his left, Don could make out the next mountain range over. _Pretty indeed._ "What do we have, Colby?"

Information had been a little lacking back at his desk when the call had come through. Don had taken the chance at getting out after his morning; Megan had stayed behind, working on getting in her report on the now closed Fisher case. A call had discovered that Colby was still on his way in, having gotten caught in traffic on the 10. Being the closest to the scene, Colby had eagerly jumped at the chance to turn on the lights and carve his way out of the heavily backed up cars, agreeing to meet up with him at the trail head.

The younger agent seemed to be getting along well with the trail and its natural defenses. It wasn't like Don was out of shape, but running down a suspect on pavement was completely different than hiking up an advanced trail. "A pair of hikers found her this morning. They called it down to the station. Rangers have seen her before. Said she's not a regular, but for a couple of weeks now she's been coming up in this area of the Park. Never with another person though."

The Oak trees were thinner, having grown sparse as the three of them made their way higher. Likewise, the ground was evening out; it was less of an incline, and more gradual.

"It's right up here, Agent Eppes," the Ranger called out, disappearing behind a tree.

Don moved around the bend and was immediately buffeted by a strong gust of wind. The air was hot as it blew across his face, fluttering the slick material of his breaker. It was hard to hear over the deafening roar.

Before him was an almost miniature version of a switchback, jutting out in its turn to create a small little secluded landing that overlooked the range he had seen climbing up.

"Forecasters predicted that the Santa Ana winds are coming in today. That's why the two hikers were coming back down. Didn't want to get caught out here when the winds rolled over the ranges. That's when they found her this morning," the Ranger roared out, an arm covering his mouth in an attempt to block the kicked up dirt.

Pushed to the side of the trail was a body. The wind had died down, leaving a hot stillness in its wake. Don approached the medical examiner bent over the victim with quick steps. There was no telling how long before another Santa Ana gust would come through. The sooner they finished with this, the sooner they could move the scene and save it from the elements.

Claudia turned her head at an odd angle to look up at him, a grim smile coming over her face. A second later and he knew why. The victim was a young woman. An extremely young woman and if he had to guess, Don would put her at around twenty one or twenty two years. Her eyes were closed and her face composed in an impasse sort of look. She almost appeared to be sleeping, if you didn't notice the stillness of her chest.

"Notice the blue discoloration of her skin." Don followed her finger as it highlighted the areas on the girl's body. "She died from asphyxiation. The ligature markings around her neck indicate she was strangled, more than likely from some type of cloth. An analysis of her clothes may find any strands of the murder weapon that were left behind."

Sleeping Beauty continued to lie there, completely unaware of the two people discussing her death above her. She was a pretty girl with dark brown hair and lightly freckled skin. Dressed like any other college age kid with jeans and an in-style as of now trim jacket buttoned up all the way, she could just as easily be pictured walking along Wilshire instead of lying in the dirt here. Don noted the thick soled boots on her feet. Sensible hiking boots meant she was experienced in the outdoors.

His eyes were drawn back to Claudia as the medical examiner lifted a hand, spreading her fingers to show him the ends. "I found some skin underneath her nails. Poor baby tried to fight back. It just wasn't enough. I'll let you know what I find after I get her on the table."

"Thanks, Claudia," he said, giving her a small smile as she stood and moved towards the tech waiting with the body bag. Don turned away and spotted Colby with another one of their people. "What do you got there?"

Colby lifted up a black strap, the laptop case attached to it coming into view. "Found it tossed over the side a few yards down, landed in a bush. It's pretty banged up, but maybe the computer guys can find something still on it."

"That or Charlie might be able to help us out with that," Don agreed.

"Agent Eppes!"

Both he and Colby turned at the sound of someone hollering his name. Claudia and the body bag guy were gesturing at him. The two of them retraced his steps back to the girl's body. "You got something else?"

Claudia shook her head. "I didn't notice this before until we got ready to move her. Her jacket got caught on something and when I lifted it up, well, this is what I found. Thought you might like to take a look."

His right hand reached up to remove his sunglasses, sliding them quickly to rest on the top of his head. Underneath the jacket, she wore a plain tee shirt. There was nothing extraordinary about that. It was what had been painted onto her shirt that was extraordinary:

"Are those symbols? And were they…painted on?" Colby squinted to his right.

"It is paint. They're symbols of the Chumash Native Americans. The colors and patterns regularly appear in much of their early art and culture." Claudia's hand held the jacket open, giving them all a view of the artwork.

Reds and blacks swirled together over the green cotton. Don could make out something that looked like a sun. Over her right rib cage appeared to be some sort of lizard creature. The letter V of the alphabet and dots finished out the rest.

"What do they mean?" Don met Claudia's gaze.

The medical examiner's head shook left and right. "I can't tell you that, sorry. Like I said, I'll let you know what I find as fast as possible."

Don repeated his thanks. He didn't know too much about the Chumash either or what their symbols meant. All he knew was that the reservation ran a casino out in Santa Ynez and that was about it. As another strong gust of wind kicked up, Don and Colby retreated back down to the relatively sheltered area of the trail they had come up on.

"Well, those symbols certainly add another layer to the puzzle," Colby remarked as they both watched Claudia move the girl into the black bag.

Don gave a little hum. "We're going to need to get statements from the hikers that found her as well as any records the rangers have on who's been up here lately. It's an advanced trail, so not too many people are going to attempt to make it up here unless they can actually make it."

"Right. I'll head back down and see if the local police got anything from the hikers. Talk to that other ranger who stayed behind at the beginning." Colby paused for a moment and then went on to say, "Looks like that break from the Fisher case didn't last too long. We have a lot of answers to find with this one."

He blinked as the body tech came by, holding onto one side of her body while the person after carried the other end. Inside that black plastic was a young woman and their new case. With a twinge of sadness at the subsequent ending of that young life, Don looked at Colby as they too began their trek back down.

"Starting with finding out exactly who she is."

* * *

_TBC._


	2. All That Glitters Is Not Gold

Disclaimer: See Chapter One.

Author's Notes: Special thanks to Dreambrother for being an awesome Beta.

* * *

Like the Los Angeles Police Department, the L.A. FBI office had its own crime lab; the technicians, lab experts, and actual crime scene investigators had their own floor where they carried out all their evidence testing. They were rarely seen outside their floor unless you counted the Crime Lab Supervisor, the Assistant or the CSA's who made it out to the crime scenes.

However, unlike the LAPD Lab which had its own building, the FBI crime lab was downstairs on the bottommost floor of the office. Tucked away where no one dared to venture; there were all sorts of rumors about the oddness of the people down there, and more often then not, especially when he himself had been down there, the lab was cold and smelled.

Exiting the elevator, Don was hit by the strong odor of chemicals and what could only be described as dead bodies. The smell didn't improve his tired and frustrated attitude, his morning fix of caffeine having failed him.

_He would need to find another pot. Perhaps the lounge down here had some left over, that is if the night shift hadn't grabbed it already. _As soon as that thought came it left again. There was no telling what made its way into the coffee down here.

Don passed the open glass area where Matt was busy looking over their dead victim's banged up laptop. The technician waved in greeting and then went back to carefully sorting out the many pieces.

He was looking for an Abby Thompson; the forensic anthropologist had called his desk phone with news on his dead victim but had said that she couldn't come to him. Colby had passed along a small description of what she looked like, as he and Megan left for the deceased's apartment.

Spotting a short woman matching Colby's description of Abby, Don backtracked and entered the room. "Abby Thompson?"

The brunette jerked up from what she was doing, turning to where his voice had come from. Seeing who he was, she smiled and her fingers stilled over the device in her hands. "Agent Eppes, I presume?"

He held his hand out for her to shake. "Yeah. Don Eppes."

She shifted the hand held device and grasped his fingers in a firm grip that defied her small stature. "Abby Thompson. Your answer to your mystery symbols. Sorry I couldn't make it upstairs to you. The Assistant Supervisor has us all running around doing a million different things; he's up for that transfer to San Diego and he wants the proficiency rates to look good for his interview."

"I can imagine. You said you had an answer for those symbols Claudia found?"

Don watched as she nodded and ran her fingers across the little computer in her hands. The touch screen responded, and from the corner of his eyes Don saw the projection screen on the opposite wall come to life; images of the painted symbols flooded the screen, bisecting and dissecting until there where eight in total.

Taking in his expression over the foreign piece of equipment, Abby grinned and explained as she highlighted and rearranged the images to her liking. "It's a surface computer. The next big thing from Bill Gates. We've got it on loan as a trial run to play around with. It runs just like a touch screen, like the new iPhone or any thing else like that," she gave the smaller part in her hand a little shake, "This is the remote piece. I can control the main computer which is down here in front of you. It makes things move much faster. That is once you get the hang of it."

Don glanced down at the rectangular, flat surface that the two of them were leaning against. Sure enough, it reflected exactly what the screen on the wall did. "Very Star Trek."

Abby laughed. "Now we're talking. But you didn't come down here to talk about surface computers," a finger pointed at the first image and one that he recognized from the crime scene. "Alright. These four are actual images from her shirt. Once Claudia mentioned that they were Chumash Symbols, I was all over them. Fascinating stuff. However, I can tell you that they're not real."

"What?" They looked real to him.

The forensic anthropologist pursed her lips in thought. "Well, they are real. But…Not real in the sense that they weren't done by any Chumash Native American."

Don nodded, pondering her thoughts, his mind already churning with trying to put the pieces together. "And how do you know that?"

She smiled, excitement showing in her face and her tone when she said, "I'm an anthropologist. Normally I study bones. But I have a Masters in Native American studies and my thesis was on Southwestern Native Americans. I am extremely fascinated by the Chumash; it's borderline obsession. If I do say so myself, not meaning to brag, I know what I'm talking about. Take a look here."

His gaze shifted to where she had indicated, watching as the crime scene photo was placed side by side with an image copied from what appeared to be a textbook. Now that Don knew he was looking for differences, he could see them. The two sets of symbols, the painted ones from their dead victim and the real ones, were very close to being exact duplicates. "Alright. Yeah, I seem them. So what does that mean? We're looking for some guy who tried to frame it these people?"

_That sounded like a possibility._

Her fingers flew over the screen again. "I'm not the agent, Agent. I just process the evidence so you can get your clues and your warrants. Getting the bad guy is your job," she gave him a small wink. "However, if you want my opinion, you're looking at someone who has familiarity with this culture. The differences are very minute and only something that a trained eye would notice. The lizard's tail is not turned in the right direction. The spirals of the sun get large and then skinny instead of skinny to large as they branch out. Also, trace ran the paint through and found that it's simple paint that can be found in numerous art supply stores in the city. The Chumash reserve still uses their original paints and liquids."

Don ran a hand through his hair, sighing as yet another wall slammed up in front of them. "Yeah. Thanks anyway, though."

Her smile was small and sad, empathizing with his frustration. "Sorry. Trace is working on your fibers found around her neck. They're backed up too, but I told them to push it through as fast as they can."

Don repeated his thanks and left, passing back by Matt who was still hunched over the broken pieces. He punched in the '14th' floor button, his thoughts moved in all different directions as they traveled down different paths and angles for this case.

_He was going to need more than just one cup of coffee. _

* * *

The door opened easily with a quick turn of the key. A few seconds were reserved to listen for any suspicious sounds that might be coming from inside the black space where a closed white door had previously been. Despite the landlord's confident assurance that there was never anyone else in Bevin's apartment, Megan found it hard to believe that an attractive twenty one year old woman didn't have some friends in a city like this. 

When none came, Megan switched her Glock to her left hand and flipped the light switch, both her and her companion lifting a hand to shield against the sudden brightness; all 100 watts of the incandescent lighting blinded them momentarily, causing them to see those dark spots normally reserved for Wiley Coyote.

"Damn, that's bright."

She rolled her eyes at her partner's exclamation and dropped her hand. Moving forward into the living room of their victim's apartment, her eyes scanned the place, searching for anyone else other than the two of them. Bevin Davis lived in a nice apartment complex roughly three miles from Centennial Drive, the main road that was home to the science buildings of Berkeley University. The second-year grad student lived among her colleagues, and while it was a relatively safe building, it was still standard procedure to insure your own safety before entering a home.

_Besides, someone had killed Bevin Davis. _

That meant there was at least one person who didn't like her.

"A little bright light too much for you there, Granger?" Megan teased, knowing full well his army history and penchant for acting like Superman during takedowns.

Colby didn't bother giving her a verbal response. Instead, he settled for a quick quirk of his lips and a mock glare.

"I'll take the bedroom and see if I can find anything in there," she continued on.

Colby's head bobbed up and down as he returned his gun to its respective holster. "Right. That leaves me here and the kitchen. Let's see if we can find out just who Bevin Davis is and what she was doing up in the Santa Clarita area."

The dead girl's apartment was nothing extraordinary but it was comfortable for a graduate student. It was small, clearly meant for only one tenant: one full bedroom, a quaint living room, and a sparse kitchen with only the essentials needed to survive.

Megan pushed aside the door to the bedroom and crossed the threshold. A thick beige bed set complemented the pale sunny yellow of the walls.

An ID card found in the tossed laptop case had unlocked the mystery of their Jane Doe.

_Bevin Nicole Davis. Twenty-one this past June. __El__dest daughter of Nick and Mary Davis from Charleston, South Carolina. Three years spent at the University of Virginia as a Jefferson Scholar to gain a major in biology and a minor in biochemistry. A partial scholarship paired with high honors had seen her admitted to the graduate school of Berkeley._

Three thousand miles was a long way away from family for a just turned adult, partial scholarship or no partial scholarship.

"I've got nothing out of the ordinary in here; just a half gallon of milk and a reminder for a dentist appointment on the 6th. You find anything?" Colby's voice carried through the wall separating the bedroom from the kitchen.

Hangers holding up folded jeans, trim blouses, pressed slacks, and tasteful tops, all of the current fashion, greeted Megan's sight as she examined the closet. A neat row of shoes complete with heels and about eight different colored flip flops gazed up at her. There were no boxes in the overhead racks or shoved somewhere behind the heavy winter coat that was more suited for Charlottesville than Los Angeles.

After finding nothing in either the closet or the nightstand, Megan let out a huff and straightened from her bent over position. The oak desk in the corner caught her eye and beckoned to her from beside the bed, acting as siren to the profiler. Unlike Odysseus, however, there were no rocks for her to crash upon.

Like everything else Megan had already learned about their victim's life from stepping into it, Bevin's workplace was meticulous and orderly. Nothing extra was there and every item that did rest on top of the wood had an exact place and purpose.

A rectangular spot, about one foot by a half, directly in front of the matching wooden chair sat empty. The space was just the right size for the recovered laptop, now back at the lab with Matt.

"I've got her desk with a place for her laptop. Nothing in her nightstand or closet that screams for attention. Hang on…" Fingers trailed over a coffee cup devoid of its namesake but filled with pens and pencils, slipping down over a stapler and then gliding to finally rest on the spiral bound notebook to the far right edge. "I might have something here."

It was no surprise, Megan noted as she went through the ink filled pages, that Bevin's handwriting was small and neat. She flicked through page after page and with each turn, became more confused. The notebook definitely held answers of some kind, but the meanings of Bevin's symbols, equations, scientific terms, and formulas went straight over Megan's head. Vaguely, she could catch phrases that dealt with someone named Weinberg. On several pages were the repeated initials of "C.C.".

_Thanks for the clues, Bevin. Now if only I knew what they meant._

The notebook would have to be documented and tagged back at the office. Forensics would go through it downstairs but there was someone else who might be able to shed some light onto the equations and such. Sometimes their team took for granted how often they needed Charlie's help, but he was always willing to offer his services and they did indeed need them.

Megan retraced her steps from the bedroom to the living area.

Colby gazed questioningly at the book she held up for him to see. "Whatcha got?"

She gave it a little shake. "Bevin Davis was working on something. A whole notebook full of something. Unfortunately I don't know what any of it means. It's all—"

"Let me guess: They're all numbers."

"Oh ha ha, Granger. But yes, her work is all formulas and equations."

Colby grinned and then satirically quipped, "Then it's a good thing we know somebody."

Megan was about to respond but the words died on her lips as she and Colby turned to the sound coming from the front door: the door knob jiggled and then turned. The profiler exchanged glances with her partner for the day; both of their right hands moved to hover over their holsters.

The door swung open in a loud fashion, the person behind not caring that the wood slammed into the wall and bounced back. He was more concerned with the two people over the step waiting for him.

Halting upon seeing them, the young man froze up like a deer caught in the headlights. His eyes even took on that wide eyed _'don't kill me'_ look.

"Who the hell are you two?" He yelled out, his firm voice in direct contrast with Megan's previous thoughts about being nervous or afraid.

Colby moved before she could respond, quickly stepping forward until he was a foot away from the kid. "The better question is: who the hell are you?"

An eyebrow rose as their unexpected guest looked back and forth between her and Colby. "Daniel Troxler. I go to school with Bevin. We have a biochem class together. What are you doing in her apartment?"

Daniel Troxler looked like a grad student: Wrinkled jeans, a red band graphic shirt, and a leather bag thrown over his shoulder. He was a decent looking guy with short cropped hair, green eyes behind black, square glasses, and a crooked smile.

"I'm Megan Reeves and this is Colby Granger. Do you know Bevin, Daniel?" Megan asked, effectively ignoring his question about them.

Green eyes blinked and his head shook from left to right. "Yeah. I already said that. I have Dr. Neuvan's advanced biochem class with her. She helps me out sometimes. Bevin's a wunderkind when it comes to chemistry. Now me, not so much."

Megan held up the black notebook again and proffered it to the kid. "Do you know what this is?"

Cautious hands took it from her and then grew in confidence as Daniel flipped through the pages. After a few he closed it and then handed it back. "It's the project Bevin's been working on. Something for her thesis. You'll have to ask her about it. She won't tell anyone just what it is. Wants it to be a surprise for when she gets done."

_If Daniel was a friend of Bevin's, then he might know what happened to her. _

She exchanged another quick glance with Colby who had remained silent and then carefully crafted her words before saying, "Daniel, do you know if anyone was mad at Bevin over something. Like maybe an ex-boyfriend? Or possibly someone who was upset with her about what she was working on?"

Daniel's hands gripped his shoulder strap. "Bevin hasn't dated anyone in awhile. I don't see how anyone could be mad at her. She's practically the nicest person I've ever met. Never holds a grudge or anything. Look… I don't see what this has to do with anything. Where's Bevin and what are you doing in her apartment? For that matter, who exactly are you?"

Colby was the one to speak up, gentling out his tone to softly speak. "We're with the FBI, Daniel. Bevin was found this morning up in the Santa Clarita Park."

The younger man's Adam apple bobbed up and down. "Found? As in she's dead?"

The mere seconds it took for Colby to answer seemed like hours. "Yeah."

The boy crumbled inward in front of their eyes. "Oh God… I… This can't be. I was just with her yesterday. I was supposed to bring her a copy of my notes and then she was going to help me go over some of them before our test next week. She's really dead?" Daniel looked hopefully at them, as if this was all a bad dream of his and theirs.

Megan nodded. "She really is, Daniel. Do you know anyone who could have done this? Anyone who was causing her problems?"

"No. Like I said, Bevin was friends with everyone. She was nice. Always there to help. She hadn't said anything about anyone harassing her or anything like that."

Colby waited a moment for Bevin's friend to compose himself. "Where were you last night and this morning, Daniel?"

His head shot up and his voice rose. "You think I killed her?"

Colby's hands spread wide. "Hey, man, we have to ask."

Daniel let out a sigh and when he responded his voice was back to its regular decibel. "I had a class this morning. Check with my TA. Last night I was out with a group of friends until four. I can give you their names and numbers."

Megan wrote down the proffered names and numbers. His alibi would have to be followed up but she didn't think it would matter much. Daniel didn't seem like the type to kill a friend and then dump their body off the side of a trail. But still, rules were rules.

After being cleared by the two of them, Daniel turned away. He quietly placed a silver key, the one he had used to get in, onto a side table. Hands gripped the door frame and he paused, looking back at them. "You'll find who did this, right? She didn't deserve this."

"We will," Colby stated, giving the young man a firm, determined look.

They waited until his footsteps had died away to turn to each other.

"Well, that didn't help. Only gave us more questions instead of answers." Megan ran a hand through her hair, fingers slightly grasping in frustration.

Colby gave her a knowing look. "Then we better see if Charlie can help us with this notebook. Otherwise, we've got nothing."

The notebook held all the answers.

_Let's just hope Charlie is willing to help us out one more time. _

* * *

_TBC_

_Feedback and comments are always appreciated._


	3. Doing It HardyWeinberg Style

Thank you to all those who are reading this and thank you to those who take the time to leave a review; it really means a lot.

_Special Thanks to Dreambrother for being an awesome Beta._

_We'll return to Don in Chapter Five. The storyline will run until we catch back up to the present. For now it remains in the past._

* * *

The door of his childhood home opened with practiced ease, the heaviness of the oak not only a result of the wood itself but also of the accumulation of so many memories. Memories that ran from his first little league game to his brother's first miraculous mathematical breakthrough to the sickness of his mother in her last days.

Nostalgia wasn't the reason behind his visit though. Don was here to seek his brother's help by putting his oversized brain to good use; the young genius was usually always able to find something when his team couldn't, and many of their closed cases were due in part to him.

Don half turned as he crossed the threshold, pushing the wood with one hand until he heard the familiar, metallic _'snick'_. Before him was the small round table and resting on top of it was the green fluted bowl. He dropped the keys to his SUV beside it, his feet carrying him past the table and further into the foyer. Don glanced left into the living room and den. A frown stole over his face.

No Charlie. No Alan. It was only eight in the morning and it was a Saturday. Saturdays were reserved for sleeping in. So where was everybody?

For that matter, the house was quiet. Not the quiet that would set his federal agent senses tingling or the type of quiet associated with emptiness. It was the kind of silence that made him feel like an intruder. Like how Don sometimes felt when he walked in on Charlie when he was in his garage.

A giggle broke through the stillness of the air, slicing through to reach his ears.

Don turned to the right, where he had neglected to look earlier, and blinked at the scene before him: Seated at the dining room table were his little brother and his girlfriend. The giggle had escaped from Amita; another one was let out as Charlie nuzzled her neck.

He could feel the heat climbing up the back of his neck and his fingers itched to rub the skin there. This was only slightly embarrassing for Don.

_Who was he kidding? This went right up there with that naked drunken night back in college._

Don thought about backing out the way he had come. Neither of the two had noticed him yet, remaining completely oblivious to his presence, and he really didn't want to stay here and witness the two lovers during their morning breakfast. But then he remembered Bevin Davis and the black notebook clutched in his left hand.

He cleared his throat and tried not to laugh as Charlie and Amita jumped, both freezing and adopting twin 'deer-in-the-headlights' looks. Amita flushed a deep pink and made a valiant attempt to cross her legs, trying to hide the skin below her calves beneath one of his brother's old shirts. Charlie was looking fairly pink too, Don noticed.

"H…Hey, Don. Uh…Is there something you need?" Charlie stammered out after getting over his shock at being walked in on.

Don cleared his throat again before speaking, his eyes focused on anything but the two of them. "Actually I do. Sorry about, uh, barging in but I thought you would have heard me. And I—"

Charlie's voice was slightly higher than usual as he cut off Don's attempt at an apology. "You have something for me to take a look at?"

_Thank God he didn't have to try and apologize again. This was weird enough._

He joined them at the table and chose to remain standing. "Yeah. We got a case the other morning. A girl was found up in the mountains. Megan and Colby took a look at her apartment and found this." Don slid Bevin's notebook across the wood.

"And you need me to take a look at it?" Charlie looked back and forth between him and the black cover.

Don nodded. "It's full of her notes which include all these equations and formulas. We were kind of hoping you could tell what she was working on. We've got nothing else to go on."

Charlie scratched his neck and began flipping through the pages. "Yeah. Sure. I'll see what I can do."

"Hey, Don, have you had any coffee this morning? Or maybe you want another cup? Good. I'll just…I'll just go get some." Without waiting for his response, Amita jumped from her chair and bolted from the room with as much dignity as she could. It was even more amusing when she headed for the stairs instead of the kitchen.

Minutes ticked by, Charlie flipping the pages, Don finally taking a seat at the table. Silence reigned only to be punctured by a random hum from Charlie or a "you've got something?" from him. Every so often the mathematician would make a face and flip back to a previous part, only to shake his head a few seconds later and go back to where he had just been.

After about ten minutes Amita finally reappeared, dressed in jeans and her own shirt, and bypassed the two of them in favor of the swinging kitchen door. When she returned with the aforementioned coffee, she wordlessly passed it over.

Don took it, grateful, and murmured soft thanks in gratitude.

Amita met his gaze this time, smiled, and then nodded.

The hot liquid burned a path down his esophagus as Don sipped from the mug, turning his attention back to the curly hair bent over the table.

Finally, Charlie let out a huff and shook his head. Looking back up he said, "I don't know what this is. I see binomial expansions, something for frequencies, and other symbols. But what it all is…Without her notes, which she seems to have chopped off or interspersed with other parts, I can only guess. And even that will take some time."

Don sighed. _They didn't have time. They were at a dead end anyway. They needed answers._

His brother gave him apologetic look and glanced back down, trying to find something.

Piqued by curiosity, Amita laid a hand on Charlie's shoulder, pushing down to gain a better view. Her head tilted to the side and then to the other.

Don perked back up as the glint in her eyes revealed that she knew something.

The curled head looked over at her, realizing that he had someone else looking at the black writing on the crinkled white pages. "Amita, you see something?"

"Uh…Maybe. Here let me take a closer look." Small hands retrieved the notebook from Charlie's grasp, the fingers quickly scanning down the lines and then flipping back and forth between pages. "This looks a lot like Hardy Weinberg."

"Hardy Weinberg? What's that?" Don asked confused and thinking that whatever she had just said was another, out there, math principle that he had long since forgotten.

It took her a few seconds to respond, but she finally looked back up and over at him, shaking her head to gather her thoughts. "Hardy-Weinberg principle. It's used in biology. Um…How can I explain this? The Hardy Weinberg principle is another way to see if populations are evolving; it's commonly used in population genetics because it shows the relationship between allele frequencies and genotypes."

"Alleles? You mean like your DNA?"

Charlie answered him this time: "Not exactly. Phenotype dictates what is shown in an organism. Genotype is the inherited alleles that you have, regardless of whether it is shown or not. Like dominant and recessive genes. Think of it in terms of eye color. Let's say that a capital 'b' represents brown colored eyes and a lower case 'b' represents green colored eyes. You may carry a big 'b' and a little 'b'—that's your genotype; what you carry in your code— but you have brown eyes because the large 'b' dominates over the little one; that's your phenotype, what you show in your physical make up."

"This sounds a lot like tenth grade Biology class. I remember Punnett squares and something about pea plants," Don said, still confused as to what this had to do with Bevin's notebook.

Amita took back over, smiling at Charlie. "Right. It looks like your victim was looking into the California Condor. More specifically it looks like she was doing research and comparisons on birds from the… it looks like a few decades ago… the time when the species was in danger from DDT and lead poisoning to the birds of today. The notes and initials in the margins look like evolutionary mappings, as if your victim was interested in seeing if there was a direct correlation between the mistreated Condors of several years ago and the birds of now. That would explain the use of the allele frequencies and the choice of using the Hardy-Weinberg principle."

_So Bevin Davis was studying the California Condor. Could be she was working on that for her graduate studies. This large amount of information would more than likely go towards a research paper or something. Don could remember the piles and piles of paper that Charlie had used when working on his paper._

"So, she was looking into these birds? Any particular reason why she was doing that? Maybe something in that Hardy-Weinberg thing?" Don leaned closer and looked back and forth between his brother and Amita.

Amita bit her lower lip, running a hand through her hair as she seemed to ponder his question. "The California Condor is a critically endangered species and is one of the rarest species of birds in the entire world. They're native to the Southern California area, most commonly found in the mountains. Their numbers plummeted years ago due to poaching, encroaching of lands, use of pesticides and just about anything else you could think of. Since then, they're protected by federal law. It's illegal to encroach on their lands and many of the pesticides that were once harmful to them are banned in the U.S. Could be any number of reasons why she," Amita looked up on the 'she'. "Was looking into them. Curiosity or for work. Nothing else in her notes that I can see seem to point to that. Sorry," she gave him an apologetic look.

Don stood, shaking his head at her apology. "No, no, no. You've been helpful. Both of you. You figured out what she was working on. Now it's my turn to figure out why. That's my job."

Moments later, after refusing another cup of coffee or the offer to stay, Don was backing out the driveway, the Suburban's engine humming at the pressure from the brakes.

_California Condors. It could be nothing or it could be everything._

* * *

There was only one way to find out though, and right now it was the freshest lead they had. 

Megan looked up as the door to the war room opened, the glass swinging to the right just far enough to admit the form of her partner. She used one finger to push her glasses up and then rub the skin on the bridge of her nose. Her vision was restored after a second and she moved on to massage her temples.

She could feel the beginnings of a headache. There was ibuprofen in the back of her desk. _Second drawer down and the far back right corner._

"Megan." Don circled the front of the table. "You guys find anything?" He shrugged out of his jacket, laid it over the back of a chair, and turned back to face her.

"Matt was able to piece back enough of Bevin's laptop to get to her hard drive. According to him, the bag protected it from most of the fall. Did Charlie get anything from her notebook?"

Don rolled back his cuffs, pushing the white sleeves up his forearms before saying: "Yeah. Well, actually Amita figured out what our girl was working on."

Megan was curious as to why her normally stoic boss suddenly seemed uncomfortable, refusing to look at her. "Amita, huh?"

_Dear God, was that a blush?"_

He shot her a look and cleared his throat. "Amita says that Bevin was working with some principle called Hardy-Weinberg. Looks at the genotypes of populations. Bevin was looking specifically into the California Condor."

"Really?" This was good news.

He titled his head to the side, a questioning expression replacing the embarrassment over whatever had happened with Charlie and Amita. "Yeah, why?"

She reached for the flat-screen's remote, pointing at the wall and pressing a few buttons. Matt's recovered data streamed up, twisting to divide into three separate screens. Megan highlighted each as she mentioned them. "Matt and the techs downstairs lifted all of Bevin's files off of her hard drive. She has all of these documents and websites saved about the California Condor. When Colby and I were checking out her apartment, we ran into this kid who went to school with her. He said that Bevin was working on this secret project. It looks like she was doing some type of research on this bird. And get this: Her recent history shows that she's been looking into this construction company, Wolfe Construction, that's working on a building project out in Santa Clarita. The work site for their new housing development is only fifteen miles from where Bevin Davis's body was dumped."

Don chewed over what she had said for a minute. "Davis's body was found in the Park. How is this construction company building inside a protected area?"

Megan had those notes around here somewhere. Lifting up a manila folder, she found what she was looking for. Her fingers skipped through the first three pages. "Her body was found on the edge of the Park. Wolfe Constructions is building just outside of the limit."

"Amita said that the condor was a critically endangered species. It's illegal to build on land that they live on," Don slowly voiced.

"You think that this construction company was doing something that they shouldn't have and Bevin happened upon it, so they got rid of her?"

He turned to look back at the screen, throwing a hand up at it and gesturing to make his point. "We have a graduate student who's been studying this bird. Maybe it's for her thesis. Maybe it's for a class. Who knows? We do know, from Amita and Charlie, that she was interested in their genetic makeup. So we have someone who's interested in animal rights. Then, a few weeks ago, she starts looking into this construction company. I don't think it was for a summer internship. Not to mention the fact that we found her body fifteen miles from their latest work site. That's way too many coincidences for my liking to not at least look into."

"It wouldn't be the first time a construction company has lied to keep their building permits. Least of all in this town," Megan said, going along with Don's theory and liking it more and more. "David and Colby are still downstairs with Matt. There are some files that Bevin had locked away that Matt is trying to open. The damage from the fall is making it hard though. They're also waiting for the trace on that fiber found on Bevin's body to come back from the lab. Forensics is backed up today."

Don was rolling back down his sleeves and reaching for his jacket. "I'll call Charlie. See if he can work some of his encryption magic and help the techs out. Meanwhile, you and I should go check out this Wolfe Construction."

Megan exited the room as Don held the door open for her. "Their office is downtown. If we hurry, we can catch some lunch on the way back."

"Lunch sounds good. Especially after what I know is going to be an _oh so pleasant _visit with the CEO."

_He's got that right, _Megan thought.

As they boarded the elevator along with about ten other people, a mix of agents and forensic techs going about their own work, the tension of her headache was brought back to mind.

_Damn. Should have grabbed that ibuprofen before leaving. _

* * *

_TBC_

_Feedback Is Always Appreciated._


	4. 250 Mulberry Moth Cocoons

Huge thanks to everyone who has read this, added alerts, and taken the time to leave a comment/review. It really means a lot. I apologize for not getting back to everyone like I would like to.

_Special Thanks to Dreambrother for being an awesome Beta._

* * *

Don had a history of being in big-shot CEO offices, and over the years he had found that they all tended to share certain qualities and aspects: big windows with perfect downtown views, expensive little knick knacks that really held no other purpose except to draw the eye, and a God-like throne of a chair.

Daniel Wolfe was no exception to the 'CEO Office Standard Rule'. A dark leather couch lay against one wall with the two matching and occupied chairs completing the furniture set. The entire back wall, directly in front of where Don and Megan sat, was made of wide glass, giving them a glimpse of the hazy, blue sky outside.

Don and Megan had taken the short ride over to Wolfe Construction, located in the Financial District of downtown, and had to all but fight their way up to the CEO's office; the receptionist, after giving them a once over that would have made Miranda Priestly proud, had huffed out a snide "Can I help you with something?" The quick flip of Don's badge had done wonders for improving her attitude.

The real-estate executive's secretary had told them that her boss was finishing up a meeting and that they could wait in his office if they wanted to. Megan had smiled and thanked her, taking her up on her offer.

Megan touched Don's arm lightly, gaining his attention from his perusal of the man's desk. He turned in his seat and saw what she was pointing to: a collection of figures and artifacts that bore a strong resemblance to those from the textbook that Abby had shown him.

"Those look Chumash to me," Megan said with one eyebrow arched.

Don didn't get a chance to reply, as the glass door opened.

The man wore a wide grin on his face and he clapped his hands together at the sight of his two guests waiting for him, as though they were here for a friendly visit. "So, Joanne tells me you two are here for some questions on a case you have. I'm Daniel Wolfe…but, I don't think I know who you two are, unless Joanne forgot to tell me."

Standing, Don shook the man's hand, Megan nodding and smiling when it was her turn. "I'm Special Agent Don Eppes, and this is my partner, Special Agent Megan Reeves. We need to ask you about a girl we found who was looking into—"

Wolfe circled around his desk, ignoring Don's lead in and giving them a smile. "Can I get the two of you something to drink? I can have my secretary get it. Water, perhaps?"

Don hardened his tone. "Look, Mr. Wolfe, we're not here to chat. I've got a dead graduate student on my hands, and the last thing she was doing before she died was investigating your building project in Santa Clarita."

The young CEO sat down in his leather chair, face losing its hospitableness as his expression turned unreadable. "I'm afraid I don't know what any of that has to do with me. I have no control, Agent Eppes, over who looks into my company. It's all public knowledge what I'm working on."

"So it's pure coincidence that Bevin Davis's body was found fifteen miles from your building site?" Megan asked.

Wolfe looked at them for a moment as if he was judging the best course of action. He reminded Don of Charlie and his father when they played chess, weighing each move to see how their opponent would respond. "Agent Reeves, you don't know who I am and I don't know who you are. But I can tell that you're an intelligent woman. You're smart and pretty; you're good at your job. So am I. I swung my first sledgehammer when I was thirteen. My first job was here. My father passed away a year and a half ago. I had to fight to get the Board to approve of his will and allow me to become the CEO. In a year I've taken his company and tripled last year's profits. I've carried on the legacy of Wolfe Construction. Now you tell me: Do I sound like a man who would throw everything away by killing a college student?"

True to her nature, Megan had a response. "No. You sound like a man who would do anything to insure the future of his company."

The man had the nerve to laugh a little. "I can assure you that I know nothing about this girl."

"Look, Bevin Davis wasn't looking into your company for nothing. If you've done something, Mr. Wolfe, now is the time to come clean. Otherwise, we're going to go through all of your records, piece by piece, until we find what we're looking for," Don stated, giving the man his patented 'look'.

Rising to his challenge, Wolfe smirked. "Be my guest, Agent Eppes. All of my records can be found downtown. You're wasting your time though. You won't find anything." He pushed back his chair, standing to signify the end of their meeting.

Don and Megan rose along with him and Don added, "We'll see about that."

Wolfe pulled a coat from a rack by the door, looping an expensive, red printed scarf around his neck. He opened the door for them. "I have a meeting downtown. If you have any other questions, you can ask my lawyer."

As she passed through the doorway, Megan turned to point back at the collection she had noticed earlier. "Are you a collector of Native American artifacts, Mr. Wolfe?"

The door shut and his answer was clipped. "My father was. They're Chumash."

Don and Megan watched as he walked away, pausing to say something to his secretary; no doubt he was telling her to call security to escort them out if they didn't leave within the next two minutes.

In the elevator Megan turned to him. "You didn't believe any of that did you?"

He gave her a look. "You did?"

She half-laughed. "Absolutely not."

"Yeah. Neither did I."

* * *

"Alright, Professor Eppes, Bevin Davis had her hard drive partitioned into several different file systems. The damage caused by whoever chucked her laptop over the mountain erased her sub files. That or the fall permanently dismembered them. So, what can we do now?" Matt drawled, his fingers beating out a _'tap-tap-tap'_ as they flew over the keyboard.

Charlie shifted in his seat, turning to face the forensic computer whiz as he set down the sheet of retrieved data he was looking at. "Well, one of the main reasons behind disk partitioning, or hard drive partitioning, is to create and define specific areas within the disk. To create that file system, like you mentioned. But another purpose for taking the time to fragment a hard drive is to protect or isolate a file, and by doing so make it easier to recover corrupted and damaged files."

Matt gave him a look and went on to say: "Yeah, Charlie, I kind of know that. Being with computers and all."

He nodded, not irritated over Matt's annoyance or inability to see what he was trying to convey. "Of course you do. While you've successfully divided or partitioned your hard drive into that file system, there are two types of partitions: The primary or logical partition and the extended partition. The extended partition, the D: or E: is where Bevin's corrupted and damaged files are. But a record of everything is kept on that primary partition."

The computer forensic's eyes finally showed he was getting it. His fingers began flying over his keyboard again, giving the commands for his computer system to look for the primary partition on Bevin's laptop. "Right, and all we have to do is run a back up on her hard drive, pull the files from the C: drive off and onto my server, and we should be able to hunt for anything on Wolfe Construction or her research. Damn, I should have thought of this sooner. Good thing I've got you here, Professor."

Charlie grinned, the corners of his mouth twitching. At the sound of the door opening, he turned to see Colby join them.

"Hey, Charlie. You two get anything yet?" Colby asked, looking warily around at the many computers, monitors, motherboards, and other pieces of equipment.

Matt answered before Charlie could, watching the 'Back Up' process instead of turning to address the agent himself. "We're working on it, Agent Granger. Charlie reminded me that we only need to pull her C drive to retrieve all of her original files."

"I don't really know what that all means, but I'll take your word for it," Colby said.

"It's like when you delete a file from your computer, Colby. You send it to your computer trashcan and it disappears from your screen. You can't find it when you look for it in Word or anywhere else you had it. But it's not really gone. The original copy remains on your hard drive. That's what we're doing with Bevin's damaged files. Instead of looking for a deleted file, we're trying to find the original." Charlie explained, his hands moving in time with his sentences.

The junior agent let out a deep laugh. "I'll just take your word, Charlie. I've been with you long enough to know that what you say is usually what happens. I hope we find something off of this. I just got a call from Don and Megan. Daniel Wolfe didn't give them much of anything and we've got nothing to get a warrant for him."

"Well, if it's there, we'll find it, Colby." Charlie hoped that he wasn't lying. It sounded like they needed this or Bevin's death might go into the 'Unsolved or Those That Got Away' pile.

Fifteen minutes later, with Charlie and Matt continuing to move the C drive to the FBI server and Colby standing behind them, Don and Megan joined them in the vastly becoming crowded room. Charlie noticed the tension in Don's jaw and the agitation as his brother's hands ran through his hair, a tell-tale sign that something was bothering him.

"Tell me you have something. No judge is going to let us snoop around Wolfe without substantial amounts of evidence of some type. We have no motive or anything on our murder weapon. Speaking of which, where the hell is forensics on that?" Don mumbled the last part.

"I don't know where the lovely Trace experts are but I've got you something right here," Matt said, speaking for the first time in the last twenty minutes.

Four heads crowded around Matt's. A few _'tap, tap, taps' _on the keysand they were staring at a set of somewhat blurry pictures.

"Are those—"

"Blueprints?" Matt finished for Megan. "They look like pictures of blueprints. Let me blow them up and run a few sharpening filters through them. There we go. Mean anything to you guys?"

"They're blueprints for the new housing development in Santa Clarita. Daniel Wolfe okayed construction two months ago. The question is, why did Bevin have them?" Don peered at the screen as if his answer would come.

"Look there," Charlie said, his finger pointing at the lower right section of the photograph. "This boundary hits into the Santa Clarita Park. I know: I've hiked up there before."

"Yeah, so what, Charlie?"

Charlie shot his brother a look, sighing and saying, "So, Don, the Santa Clarita Park is home to the California Condor. They're protected by law and before you can build anywhere near their habitat, you have to prove to the United States Wildlife Service that you aren't destroying it. Under the Endangered Species Act you cannot 'destroy or adversely modify' their lands. With these lines shown on Daniel Wolfe's blueprints, there's no way the government would have consented to this construction area."

"But, Charlie," Megan stated, "Daniel Wolfe has already started building. He must have proven somehow that he wasn't endangering these birds."

Charlie shook his head, his curls bouncing. "Not necessarily. Matt, can you access the public records from downtown? Pull up the blueprints entered in the Hall." Matt did as he said and Charlie nodded in satisfaction. "Look, there. They aren't the same. He's illegally extended his construction site into their territory. Birds don't know when they travel outside of the park. That's why you still can't build for a certain specified area. He probably showed the governmental agent these blueprints, the ones from the public records, and paid off someone to expertly attest to there being no condors in that area."

His brother nodded, understanding, and the look on his face told Charlie that he was putting all the pieces of this one thousand piece puzzle together. "Only Bevin Davis found out what he was doing. She must have broken into his office to get to these pictures. That's motive right there. Wolfe's facing serious charges if Bevin rats him out, so he does away with her."

"That and this probably pissed him off too," Matt added.

They turned to back to the computer screen and looked at what appeared to be a letter from Bevin to the Wolfe Construction CEO.

"_Mr. Wolfe, I know what you are doing. It's illegal to encroach on federally protected land and it's also illegal to destroy an endangered species habitat. If you don't stop, I'm going to report you," _Megan read off, "She goes on to list what proof she has. God, the girl practically signed off on her death. The letter was saved a week ago."

"That's enough for me. I think we've got our guy. Now we just need a warrant for his arrest. I say we bring him in." Don looked around at Megan and Colby, both of them nodding in agreement.

"That, and this too," David said, coming into the room, and Charlie all but laughed; it seemed humorous that everything seemed to be coming together right now, almost like a reversal of Murphy's Law.

David flipped open a file, passing it over to Don. Megan and Colby peered as David explained what was on the white pages. "Trace finally came through. The fibers Claudia lifted from Davis's neck are from a scarf. More specifically, a red printed Hermès scarf. They're made from Mulberry Moth Cocoons and are hand printed."

"Did you say red, David?" Megan asked.

David nodded.

Megan exchanged looks with Don. "Daniel Wolfe was wearing a red hand printed scarf. It looked really expensive. What do you wanna bet that that's our scarf?"

"He's still wearing the scarf he strangeled her with? Man, that's wrong." Colby sarcastically quipped.

Everyone cracked a small smile, and Charlie watched as his brother took charge in the small tech room.

"Alright, David, Megan, you two wait for the warrant on his office. When it comes in, you two go check it out and pull what we need. Colby and I will go pick Wolfe up and bring him in. We'll see if he wants to share his side of the story before we hand him over to the Wildlife Agents." Don's voice faded as his team filed out and and went their separate ways.

"Hello… A little thanks would be nice." Matt rolled his eyes at the now gone agents.

Charlie clapped him on his back. "Nah. It's what they do. It's okay. We know how great we are."

The dark haired man gave him a sideways look. "You're telling me, Professor."

* * *

_TBC_


	5. Taken By The Wind

Thanks to those who are reading this, to those who have added alerts, and to those who have taken the time to leave a comment/review. It really means a lot.

_Special Thanks to Dreambrother for being an awesome Beta._

* * *

The wind caught the passenger door, and instead of trying to battle against the forces of nature, Colby let go; the Santa Ana winds, after dying down for the last two days, had returned to swoop back over the mountain ranges, unleashing its invisible fury on the Los Angeles area. 

With a loud noise, the door slammed shut. From over the top of the FBI Suburban, Colby could see Don giving up as well - the shape of the SUV and the mountain roads had made them easy targets for broad side gusts.

"Damn Daniel Wolfe," he muttered.

Don looked over at him from behind his customary aviator sunglasses. "What?"

"Nothing," Colby hollered out. "We sure he's up here right now? It's kind of dangerous with this weather. I mean, I know he's stupid, but is he _that_ stupid?"

The senior agent grinned, pulling his windbreaker on before joining Colby near the hood. "Very funny. Joanne kindly gave over Wolfe's whereabouts."

The two of them fell into step with each other and began the trek up to the Santa Clarita building site. Bits of dirt picked up by the wind tore into their faces and any other skin that was exposed. Thankfully, their sunglasses provided double protection for their eyes, both from the sun, as well as, any airborne particles.

"Kindly?" Colby asked.

Another small grin quickly turned into a grimace. Don spat out some dirt and wiped his mouth. "Yeah. Right after Megan told her we had an arrest warrant."

Trees had been removed from this area to allow for easy access by the big construction machines. The Suburban had gotten them close, with only a few hundred yards and one switchback left for their feet.

Like a replay from three days ago, to their left were the rolling slopes of the Santa Susana Mountains. Greens and browns reflected the afternoon rays of the sun, creating a beautiful picture for a photographer or any other admirer. It was breathtaking and Colby filed this information away for a weekend retreat; a break from the daily stresses of his job would be nice, as would a weekend with a pretty girl.

Colby and Don curved to the right along the pathway. The second switchback, located roughly five hundred feet above the base, opened up to a landing or resting spot that was similar to where Bevin Davis's body had been found.

A work pavilion was set up near the edge with a long white table the only thing underneath it. The blue plastic tarp that covered the tent whipped and snapped in the air, it being the only sound that could be heard over the roar of the wind.

And bent over that table, head held down, was Bevin Davis's killer. The young man, around Colby's age, was talking to the person next to him, gesturing and trying to hold down his map at the same time.

He was still wearing that damn scarf, and the sight of the red silk made Colby want to growl.

Don took the lead, and his feet followed. They stopped a few feet from the table, and it was only when Don hollered out that they gained the two's attention. "_Daniel Wolfe_."

The CEO finished his conversation with the construction worker beside him, looked out at the actual building site below, and then turned to address Don. "Agent Eppes. I can't say it's pleasant to see you again. I thought we were done with this horrible business - unless you and that other lovely agent have come up with another humorous allegation?"

Colby had to give it to Don - he didn't take the man's bait. Instead he coolly responded with: "Would you step over here, Mr. Wolfe?" It wasn't much of a question either; the sharp tone underneath did away with the asking part.

Wolfe smiled, an eyebrow raising and transforming his face into a sneer. "Might I ask why?"

"Because he said so," Colby growled.

The man sniffed and stared at him. Colby stared back, his face hard and his eyes narrowed. _Just give me a reason._

Wolfe shook his head and stepped away from the map, his white unclenching fingers the only sign of distress. Incredulously, he asked, "Well?"

Don removed the hand cuffs from behind his back and the silver glinted between the three of them. "Daniel Wolfe, you're under arrest for the murder of Bevin Davis—"

"On what evidence?" The accused interrupted, his face turning red.

Colby pointed at Wolfe's neck. "For starters that scarf you're wearing. Fibers were found on Davis's body; fibers from a red Hermes scarf and I'm betting that those fibers will match up to yours."

"That's it? A scarf? That's not enough—"

The man was floundering, and he knew it. The brush off behavior was gone, and all traces of arrogance had been erased. In front of them was a man who knew he had been caught, knew he was doomed, and was desperate to do anything at this point.

Don took a step forward, preparing to cuff the business man and end it. "We know that you illegally extended your building lines into federally protected lands. We've got it all. The AUSA might be willing to cut you a deal if you come now, peacefully and without any problems."

Apparently Wolfe was desperate enough to do the stupidest thing possible. Or he didn't like his chances with cutting a deal with the AUSA's office - not that Colby thought any of them were going to cut him a deal anyway.

Three things happened at once: Don went to cuff Wolfe, moving to get his hands behind his back; Wolfe turned as Don bent his head down and sprang to the side, shoving Don at the same time; and the Santa Ana winds decided to come to life again.

Don staggered out towards the ledge, fighting to regain his balance and teetering dangerously. Both Colby and Wolfe froze. Don seemed to have it for a moment, but the sudden, hot gust of forty miles per hour wind made all the difference. It was like an invisible finger gave the senior agent one push.

Colby watched in horror.

Don slipped.

Wolfe ran.

Colby took one step towards Don, hesitant on whether to go after Wolfe or help his friend.

Don continued to slip, the ground rushing up to meet him. He roared out to Colby: "Get him, Granger. Don't let him get away."

Growling and cursing, Colby shook his head, taking one last look at Don before taking after Wolfe.

Wolfe had chosen to continue on up the trail. Colby rounded the switchback, the hard ground pounding underneath his feet. He saw the red flicker of the Hermes scarf. The visual created a surge in his speed.

The running fugitive gave a backwards glance and promptly tripped over his own feet. As he tried to get back up, feet scrambling and hands grabbing, Colby caught him.

He yanked hard on the man's shirt, pulling him up and giving him a shake. Wisely, Wolfe didn't try to run again, not that Colby's steel grip was going to let him get away again. "Don't you even try to run, you son of a bitch."

Limp and spent, Wolfe was easy to cuff. Looking out to the opposite mountain range, and then to the switchback he had just climbed, Colby sent a silent thought upwards, hoping that Don was okay.

* * *

A thin sheet of glass separated Megan from Daniel Wolfe. Standing there, in the observation room, watching the murderer, Megan ironically came to the conclusion that a _thin_ barrier wasn't all too smart. While it was a long shot that a perp would ever gain the upper hand and that an agent would find themselves looking down the barrel of their own gun, it was still a possibility; she was sure that it had happened before. 

Luckily though, Daniel Wolfe wasn't a bad ass criminal. He'd had the upper hand when he strangled Bevin Davis, but the man wouldn't stand a chance against her. That, and his earlier comments about her looks were partial reasons why she was conducting the interrogation - the main one being that Don was absent due to his fall.

"Don's just been admitted to Los Robles. Paramedics took him over to Thousand Oaks in Ventura for immediate care. Colby already called Charlie," David said, coming into the outer room.

Megan turned to him. "Is he okay? I know Don was well enough to call me and give us his location, but you know how he is. He'd swear a broken bone was nothing."

David's teeth flashed white as his lips twisted into a grin. "Colby said he's banged up a bit, but nothing too bad. He couldn't talk for long, wanted to follow with the paramedics."

She nodded and turned her focus back to the man who was sitting at the steel table. Wolfe was agitated- hands rubbing together, lips parting and tongue darting out. Every so often his head would pull up from its hung down position, and his eyes would shift everywhere.

According to Colby's short statement taken at the site, he and Don had hiked up there to arrest the CEO. Said CEO had somehow pushed Don and taken off, Don had somehow fallen over the ledge, and Colby had somehow caught up to the fleeing CEO and arrested him. The _some how's _were a bit too ambiguous, but clarification would have to wait.

David spoke again, drawing her focus away from analyzing the best way to get the now captured suspect to confess. "Wolfe's DNA was sent down to the lab. Techs said they would push it through now and bring the results up ASAP… And the representative from the U.S. Wildlife Service is here."

Turning around to face the bullpen side, Megan followed David's finger to the woman he was pointing to. The woman was talking to another agent outside of his cubicle, and Megan could tell that she had only stopped there to ask for directions. The brown and yellow emblem stitched into the right breast pocket identified her as an agent for the U.S. Fishery and Wildlife Service and the woman that their team had called in to notify them about Wolfe's illegal actions.

The other FBI agent raised a hand and pointed to the interrogation room where Megan and David were. The Wildlife rep nodded upon seeing them and continued on her way towards the two.

Opening the glass door and stepping inside, she said, "Agent Reeves?"

Megan stepped forward and offered her hand to the older woman. "I'm Agent Reeves and this is Agent Sinclair."

Her grip was firm and her eyes were serious. "Sinclair? You were the one that notified us of this problem? Thanks for that. I'm Mary Taskert, representative of the Department of State and the United States Wildlife Agency. This our guy?" Taskert asked, jerking her chin toward Wolfe.

"Yeah. His name is Daniel Wolfe. He owns a construction company that's currently building out in Santa Clarita, near the Park. He killed a girl who discovered that he was illegally encroaching on the California Condor's land. We called you, but the murder charge trumps the fraud and encroachment. Not to mention the added charges of resisting arrest, assaulting a federal agent, and fleeing from an agent." Megan eyed Taskert, waiting to see how the other woman would take what she had said about their case being more important than hers.

Taskert didn't take offense. She shook her head, letting out a short bark of a laugh. "As it should be. The most we can get him for is a heavy fine and possibly one year jail time, and that's if we get a favorable judge. We can take his license, but twenty five to life is far better than anything we can do." She repeated her earlier action, shaking her head and barking again. "What a damn fool. All he had to do was file for an HBC."

David whipped his head around and exchanged a look with Megan. "An HBC?"

Looking sideways and tearing her gaze from the still fidgeting witness, Taskert explained: "An HBC. An Habitat Conservation Plan. You want to build on land that you know already has an endangered species, then you file for an HBC through us. You explain the full effects of the impact your building is going to have on that species, and it's possibly that you can be okay-ed to build. Now, this guy might not have gotten approved, actually he probably wouldn't have, given the number of Condors left, but still... You interview him yet?"

Megan sidestepped around Taskert, walking backwards to the interrogation door. Laying a hand on it, she said, "David and I were just about to."

Taskert tilted her head back towards the bullpen. "Good. I'll wait out there. I want a chance to speak to him before you transfer him out."

She nodded and pushed open the door. David followed and the door closed with a soft swish of air.

Daniel Wolfe snapped to attention when they entered. He licked his lips and wrung his hands, bringing them up from his lap. Megan noted that his hands were shaking, and when Wolfe saw her staring he clasped them tightly together. His voice was high as he spoke. "That agent… Agent Eppes… I didn't mean to hurt him. I was just trying to get away. I pushed him lightly and the wind… the wind blew… I… I didn't mean to hurt him," he finished lamely.

Megan took the seat directly across from the CEO. "Fortunately for you, Agent Eppes is alright. Mr. Wolfe, we know that you killed Bevin Davis."

He swallowed and licked his lips again in a way that resembled a snake. "Yeah? Based on what evidence?"

David answered the other man's challenge, his voice cool, and his face impassive. "Based on fibers found on Bevin Davis's body. Fibers that belong to a red Hermes scarf; the same scarf that you were wearing earlier. Our lab is testing your DNA for a match to the skin lifted from underneath Bevin's fingernails, and I'm willing to bet everything in your bank account that it comes back positive. Not to mention the e-mail she sent you and the pictures of your illegal blueprints we lifted off of her laptop."

The shifty eyes were back. Wolfe looked like he was ready to bolt; the only thing keeping him still being the two agents sitting across from him and the four solid walls.

Megan laid her hands, palms downward, onto the cool metal of the table. "This is your only chance to help yourself before we turn you over to the United States Attorney. What happened, Mr. Wolfe?" She lowered her tone, trying to appeal to his desperation.

The young CEO seemed to lose himself in his memories. "You know, I didn't have a choice when it came to my job. My father told me when I was ten that I was going to take over the company one day. I wanted to be a doctor, but that's not what he wanted. He put my first sledge hammer in my hands when I was thirteen. Nothing was ever good enough for him. I couldn't fail at anything. It always had to be perfect. To be the best. Don't you see…? I couldn't let her ruin everything."

She repeated her question, staring at the crumbled man across from her. "What happened?"

Seeing he was gaining no sympathy from either of them, Wolfe sighed. A hand ran through his hair and over his face. "About a week ago someone broke into the office. We didn't think anything of it because nothing was missing. Turns out that girl had gotten to the blueprints in the conference room and she sent me an e-mail saying that she knew what I was doing in Santa Clarita - that it was illegal to encroach on those birds' land. She said she was going to tell… to blow the whistle on everything. I couldn't let her do that. I had a guy follow her and I followed her up to that trail one morning. I tried to talk to her and tell her they were just birds. I was giving people places to live and providing jobs, but she didn't care, she wouldn't listen. So I… I… choked her with my scarf. She scratched me but she went limp and she fell. There was this bush and I dragged her over there."

"And you tossed her laptop. But why the symbols?" David asked.

Wolfe looked up and directly at them for the first time. "My father was a collector of Chumash artifacts so I was familiar with what they looked like. Did you know that the California Condor is an important symbol to the Chumash?"

Megan sat up; she didn't want to hear anymore. "So you did it to make it look like it was one of them."

"Yeah," he whispered, hanging his head again.

The chair made a harsh scrape as she pushed it back. Megan walked to the door, pausing as Wolfe spoke again:

"Hey. You'll talk to the D.A. right? I didn't mean for that agent to get hurt. And that girl shouldn't have been nosing around. It was her fault."

Megan was aware of David saying something as she pulled open the door, but she didn't stay to hear. She passed by Taskert at her cubicle. Giving her a look, Megan said, "He's all yours."

* * *

Don winced as he eased himself into a sitting position on the hospital bed. His lungs felt like they had taken a brutal beating. Every breath felt like fire. Not to mention the horrible pain in his ankle. 

Although it _was_ getting better, he mused, looking down at the black ankle brace. The doctor had said it wasn't a complete break, but Don would definitely want to keep off of it.

Speaking of his doctor, the curtain pulled back and she rejoined him in their little exam room. Smiling, her hands shook the crutches she had brought in. "Here you go, Agent Eppes. You'll want to stay off the ankle for about a week. Maybe two but something tells me you're not going to stick to that. So, definitely one week. Unless you want to come back and visit me again."

Don smiled, reaching for the crutches. He was familiar with them, having gone through all sorts of injuries as a child; plus, there had been that one time during Fugitive Recovery when he'd completely broken his ankle. "Awww. I wouldn't mind coming to visit you again, Dr. Chang."

Dr. Melissa Chang gave him a look and then returned her attention to her pen and clipboard. The pen scratched over the paper and she smiled. "As flattering as that is, Agent Eppes—"

"Don is just fine."

Another look. She began again: "As flattering as that is, _Don,_ I know that's just the morphine talking. Speaking of pain medication, I'm writing you a prescription to help you with your ribs and ankle. You need to take it easy for the next week or two. Desk duty only, Agent. No field work. And stay away from areas where the wind is going to blow you over." Dr. Chang winked.

Before Don could come up with a response, the curtain pulled back again, only this time there wasn't a cute female doctor. Instead, a curly haired mathematician rushed to Don's side, almost knocking him over in his haste to assure himself that his older brother was okay.

The crutches almost slipped out with Don struggling to remain upright, and Dr. Chang rushed forward to help.

"Whoa. I'm okay, Buddy. Nothing big. It's alright," Don said, laying a hand on Charlie's shoulder and looking him in the eye.

Charlie didn't seem to believe him. "Nothing big? Falling off a mountain, breaking your ankle, and cracking your ribs are nothing?"

His response was a sheepish shrug of his shoulders which made him hiss. "Technically, the ankle isn't broken. Just severely sprained."

_When had Charlie gotten so good at giving __that__ look?_ _Usually that was the look that Don gave during interrogations - the one that said 'I-don't-believe-any-of-that-bullshit.'_

Raising an eyebrow, Dr. Chang grinned and passed over the square prescription order. "I see you're going to be in good hands for the next few days, Agent Eppes. Brothers, right? Well, Agent Eppes's brother, you'll have fun with him. Keep him off his feet."

Charlie beat him to responding. "Oh, you can be sure I will…. Dr. Chang," He read off of her name tag. "He won't be doing anything."

Don let Charlie lead him from the exam area, as he was getting a little woozy from the morphine now that he noticed and towards the entrance to Los Robles. "Oh really, Chuck? And who's going to stop me?"

His brother gave him a look again, his curls shaking. "In case you haven't noticed, Donald, you're on crutches."

"Yeah… So?"

Charlie sighed and enunciated like he was talking to a five year old. "You cannot move. You can't run. You can barely walk without my help."

"I can still beat you with my crutches." Don gave them a little shake for emphasis, ignoring the fact that the movement sent him into the side of Charlie's Prius.

"We'll see," Charlie replied, shutting the door and rounding the hood to the driver's side.

As Charlie pulled away from the hospital parking lot and out onto the road that would lead them home to Pasadena, Don had the last word. "Oh yeah. We will see."

Sleep overtook him and Don's body finally relaxed, knowing that Wolfe had been captured and there was nothing else for him to do.

* * *

_TBC_

_Feedback Is Always Appreciated_

_One to go..._


	6. That's The Way It Is

Author's Notes: I apologize for the serious delay in this final chapter. I have been dealing with some really close personal/familial issues that have consumed my time. Thank you to those that have read this, have reviewed this, and continue to read and review.

Disclaimer: As always I only play with them. Numb3rs and its characters belong to Cheryl and Nick.

* * *

Megan winced as she exited the Suburban, the sun's rays beating down on her face and into her eyes. Single handedly, she reached up and plucked her sunglasses from the top of her head and slid them on to their right place over her eyes.

It took her a moment to adjust to sudden dark tint but she was grateful as the pounding in her head eased ever so slightly because of it. The migraine from two days ago had stuck around, not lessening in its intensity until this morning. All she could do, and had been doing, was take Excedrin.

Walking from the visitor's parking area, Megan made her way to the University of California, Berkeley's central plaza. Students passed by her, some on bikes, others on foot. A few walked by themselves but most being either in large groups or with at least another friend.

Megan found herself profiling the grad students and she continued on towards her destination: '_The Asian girl by the fountain is heading for a mental breakdown, judging by her nervous demeanor… The boy by the bright yellow flowers really likes the girl standing next to him… That one's come from a bad family situation… She always appears happy but is broken on the inside.' _

Soon she found the reason for her visit to the university: A rather large building loomed over her, the engraved words over the door reading '**College of Chemistry**'. Megan tugged on the handle and passed through the doorway.

Cool air hit her and her shoulders dropped due to the air's refreshing touch. Her fingers slid her sunglasses back onto the top of her head, pushing her bangs back out of the way as well.

The heels of her boots clicked across the marbled floor as she made her way towards the directory on the side wall. Scanning the list, she found the name she was looking for: Dr. Denise Jelse, who was a professor of biochemistry and had also been the professor of Bevin Davis.

She was also the biochemistry professor for Bevin's friend, Daniel Troxler - the one who had burst into the dead girl's apartment while Megan and Colby had been looking for clues. He had been the one who had steered them in the right direction with the black notebook, giving them his thoughts on what had been inside.

After closing the case with the arrest of Wolfe and assuring herself that Don was okay, Megan had remembered Bevin's friend. Her inner conscience had reasoned that the least she could do would be to drop by and let him know how things had been resolved. She'd talked to Mr. and Mrs. Davis earlier that morning, not something she had enjoyed, and the scruffy grad student was the last person on her list.

Daniel Troxler had an eleven o'clock class with Dr. Jelse. Glancing down at her wrist, Megan saw that it was thirty past twelve and the end of class was due; she'd used her resources to find out both Dr. Jelse's and Daniel's class schedules.

As if by some magic cue, classroom doors opened on the bottom floor, students slowly streaming out and going about their way. A few gave her a curious glance but most went about their business.

Remembering what the directory had told her, Megan climbed the stairs to the second floor, staying on the right and out of the way of the people heading downstairs.

'_201…202…203…204…,' _Megan counted and came to a stop to the side of the one marked 205.

Most of the students had left but a few remained, talking with the dark haired woman at the front of the lecture room. One of those remaining was none other than Daniel.

Megan waited patiently as he talked with his professor, watching with interest as Dr. Jelse responded with a comment causing Daniel to throw up his hands in mock annoyance. The grin on the boy's face told both Megan and the biochemistry teacher that he was only playing.

As soon as he turned around and made his way to the door, Megan gave a little wave to catch his attention.

Daniel noticed, smiled, and diverted his path to join her. Falling into step with Megan as they walked back towards the stairs, he hitched his bag over his shoulder and said, "Hey, Agent Reeves. Didn't expect to really see you again. What brings you out here to Berkeley?"

Megan smiled. "I came to see you, Daniel." Her voice turned serious and they stopped. "We finished the case yesterday, and I thought you might like to know what happened."

His face fell, the smile fading and a morose look replacing it. "Yeah. I'd like that."

Daniel gestured to the stairs and set off, Megan following. He led her back outside and to the plaza area, out into the open sky and back into the sun.

She left her sunglasses on top of her head this time. She wanted to be open and genuine, and hiding her eyes behind the dark rims was not a friendly posture.

The grad student's eyes roamed across the lawn, taking in his fellow classmates and the sights. Sighing, he finally spoke: "It's been real quiet here for the past few days. The whole university is upset but here, at the Chemistry department, we're really messed up. Dr. Jelse has been beside herself. Bevin was a favorite student of hers - she could always put up with her crazy antics, Bevin could."

Megan nodded, knowing he really didn't want a response.

Daniel looked her in the eye this time, his hands stilling in their fidgeting with the leather strap of his bag. "You know they started a scholarship fund in her name. Dr. Jelse and another professor are heading the committee. It's for students dedicated to preserving life through the education of biology."

A moment of silence passed between the two of them. Birds chirped nearby and a slight breeze blew through the plaza with grass, trees, and flowers bending in its wake. Megan noted the beauty of the university, thinking that if Larry was with them, he would have something poignant to say; something that would tie in the beauty to Bevin's death.

As such, Megan had nothing but facts to talk about, but she tried anyway. "Bevin would have liked that, I think. She died protecting something she knew was right. She would be very touched to know."

Daniel gave a small smile and nodded his head. Taking a deep breath, he asked, "Well, what did you find out? I read the paper this morning, but they didn't have much on it."

"That notebook we found, the one you told us was a secret project… We have a friend, Dr. Eppes, who helped us figure it out—"

Daniel interrupted with a grin. "Dr. Eppes? As in Dr. Charles Eppes of CalSci?"

Megan nodded. "What? You know him too?"

The twenty one year old dissolved into laughter. "Haha…He's, uh, guest spoken here before, but Dr. Jelse has the hugest crush on Dr. Eppes. She's in love with everything he's ever done. His new book… the one he just published… She's got like three copies in her office."

Thinking about Amita, Megan jokingly said, "Well, unfortunately for your professor, Dr. Eppes is already taken."

Daniel laughed again - a full, head tilted back, laugh. "I'm not going to be the one to tell her."

And with that joke about Charlie and Dr. Jelse, the awkwardness had broken between the two of them. Megan didn't need a philosophical wisdom to connect with Daniel.

Together, they sat on the bench, underneath the warm sun and feeling the swaying breeze. Megan explained everything about what Bevin had done, what Wolfe had done, and afterwards she let Daniel talk about the friend he would never see again. Several hours saw their passing as they conversed.

It was only after she was driving back to the office that Megan realized her migraine was gone.

* * *

The headlights of the old vehicle washed over the wood of the Craftsman, growing brighter as the car pulled further into the driveway.

Glad to finally be home, Alan cut the engine and listened to the rumbling die away. After a moment, the lights died as well.

He paused for a moment before getting out. He liked to sit in the silence every now and then; sometimes it was just to collect his thoughts and other times it was simply because he wanted to sit, to have a break from the rest of the world if only for one brief moment.

One with his being and more than ready to be in his own bed and house, Alan opened the car door. He pulled his body out, noting that he was moving slower than he used to.

The warm Pasadena air greeted him, soft currents caressing his face, the fading light of the sun creating a beautiful back drop against the lawn.

A small bird flew over his head as he walked up the front pathway. Alan followed the bird's flight and smiled as a larger bird, presumably the baby bird's parent judging by the angry twittering, followed.

In good humor now, Alan unlocked the heavy wooden door of the Craftsman and stepped into the house for the first time in the last three days.

However, his good humor lasted for all of five minutes as his eyes alighted on his two sons. Alan came to a halt in the entry way of the living room.

Having only just noticed their father, both his sons froze in their actions and blinked up at him. The television blared from its area, a hockey game in full swing.

"Hey, Dad." Charlie sheepishly said.

His eldest son was better at keeping a straight face. "Hi, Pops. How was the trip?"

Too bad for them, Alan was still smarter than his sons. It hadn't worked during their teenage years and it wasn't working now. The crutches leaning against Don's chair and his elevated ankle weren't helping their case either.

Alan dropped his suitcase on the floor and fixated the younger Eppes men with a look. "Un-hunh. How about we talk about what happened while I was gone? We can talk about me later."

An exchange of glances passed between Don and Charlie, neither saying anything. And then both burst out, pointing at one another, blaming the other. It was all Alan could do to follow the conversation:

"It's all on Don, Dad…"

"Oh, way to be a sell-out, Chuck. What do you mean it's all on me?" A rolling of the eyes.

"Hey, it was your case. I'm not the one that fell off the side of a mountain—" Coupled with a 'right-back-at-you' look.

Don's voice was all sarcasm now. "Oh yes. I meant to fall off. I wanted to hurt myself. And you're supposed to be a genius? You might be losing it, Bro."

"Losing it? Well, we certainly know that you're not the genius. Climbing up a mountain with the Santa Ana winds in full blow?" All indignation now.

Alan shook his head as Don unsuccessfully tried to take a stab at Charlie with one of his crutches; Charlie retaliated by jumping out of the way and sticking out his tongue.

"Enough. I said enough!" Alan hollered.

Like two children again, Don and Charlie froze, faces upturned to gaze at their father's sudden outburst.

Seeing that they had at least stopped for the moment, Alan went on. "Good. Now that you've stopped acting like you're five and ten again, I can speak. I'm going to put my stuff away. Then I am going to go get some more things for Don's ankle – don't give me that look - You don't have it elevated enough–, and when I get back, you two are going to calmly explain to me how it is that I have only been gone for three days and Don has managed to injure himself during that time."

Without waiting for an answer, Alan moved for the stairs. "And don't move, Don. I bet you haven't been keeping off of it at all, and I bet that your brother hasn't been able to keep you down. Both of them are too stubborn for their own good and I'm getting too old for this." The last part was mumbled to himself.

Finding another pillow, Alan tucked it under his arm and headed back for the stairs. He paused, hearing the siblings bickering and teasing.

Yes, Alan thought, despite the childishness his sons could sometimes display, he was glad to be home.

Some things would never change, like Don injuring himself for the greater good because of his work and Charlie taking any opportunity to tease his older brother when he had the upper hand.

But then, some things didn't need to be changed, and Alan wouldn't have it any other way.

* * *

_The End. _

_Comments and Feeback are always appreciated._


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